


The Caged Bird

by Silverwain



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 07:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8481376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverwain/pseuds/Silverwain
Summary: We are all caged birds. Our lives are stories with their endings foretold.





	1. Chapter 1

We are all caged birds. Our lives are stories with their endings foretold.

Once upon a time there was a caged bird. She had spent all her life in her cage, which was a pretty one with intricate adornments along the rail and also a cozy one well-furnished inside, aiming for the comfort of its habitant.  
The caged bird was taught to sing when she was little--so little that she could hardly remember a time when she did not spend almost every day practicing songs. She was a gifted yet diligent student. She seemed to understand the notes better and easier than most birds her age, and was able to perform very well when she was still quite young.  
She sang with ease and comprehension, as well as an air of confidence and charm, thus winning all kinds of prizes and praise. She was one to be admired and respected. Those who had had the pleasure of listening to her voice were convinced that she would grow up to be a star.


	2. Chapter 2

While most would assume that continuous practice of a certain skill shoud often lead to boredom and constant exhaustion, this, however, was not the case. Truth be told, the caged bird never minded singing all the time. Quite the contrary, she liked having her voice dancing in the wind, and feeling the subtle changes in the emotions conveyed through notes. It was her mother language which she had grown to appreciate more out of habit than ferocious love.  
Then she met him and it all changed.  
He was saved by her owner on a stormy night. The courageous conqueror of the sky found himself lost in the downpour and accidentally crushed into a window. He was still struggling, though weakly from exhaustion, when taken into the house.  
"Not exactly a damsel in distress, is he?" The caged bird couldn't help smiling inwardly when she woke up to a sudden turmoil and her brain slowly registered what was going on as the haze of sleep faded.  
He was placed beside her, already unconscious and sinking into a dreamless sleep, in a makeshift nest made of soft fabric. And she watched him, chest rising and falling slightly, the soft glow of the fire nearby dancing on his feathers--oh, his startlingly gorgeous feathers. They were a clash of colours, and yet undeniably harmonious. They were blooming flowers in Spring, only fiercer and livelier. They were fireworks exploding in the sky, but timeless and everlasting. They were beauty that can only be worshipped on one's knees.  
However, it was those unfathomable eyes she caught a glimpse of earlier that truly took her breath away. They had the tragic beauty of utter destruction. They held the catastrophic secrets of the world.  
And that was how she drifted to a restless sleep that night--lost in the stormy sky and in his stormy eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks had passed since their, to be frank, quite unlikely encounter. They had grew close, if not intimate, much to her astonishment. After all, she had expected on the first morning, a cocky bastard who wouldn't even respond to her attempts to approach him. He turned out to be exactly the opposite--kind, polite, and easily befriended, the sort of bird who would apologize for being too lost in thoughts to notice her asking a question, and smile warmly whenever she made an unsure comment on something he said.  
On those long, quiet afternoons when she didn't need to practice, they would sit together in the warmth of a fire burning slowly, and chat, occasionally stopping to listen to the drizzle outside. He told her about his adventures in the outside world, stories which were romanticized by the poetic air of the dimly lit room, as well as his vivd narrative. He told her about the wonders that only an immortal adventurer like himself knew of: sheets of ice glittering under moonlight like the most precious of jewels, hidden glens blooming with wild flowers, and spectacular sunsets sprinkling liquid gold on the surface of a sapphire sea.  
And years later, when she was much, much older, she would remember, with a broken heart and eyes moist with tears, the gentleness of his polished voice, and the sparks in his eyes which no doubt reflected hers.  
That was her first encounter with the real beauty of nature, which, inevitably, elicited an wild and intense desire in her to fly in the vastest of skies, and see, with her own eyes, the most beautiful of landscapes. A dream to be free.


	4. Chapter 4

Part IV  
She never sang to him.  
Her life, she believed, was far too ordinary and dull to be brought up during such fascinating conversations as the ones they had shared. Their worlds, she had thought and signed, were to divergent to possibly intersect with one another in any way. Thus, she contented herself with being a listener and indulging in the perfection her own imagination had conjured up according to his narration.  
Better to leave his world alone. Untouched and untainted. A perfect delusion in her head.  
Her world, however, was stirred in an irreversible way.  
It was getting harder and harder for her to concentrate. The music notes were so frequently interrupted by fragments of his story, by the turmoil of her imagination. What she then realized with terror was that this had never happened to her. She panicked, which led to anxiety, and more scolding when she missed a note, more glares when her voice trembled.  
After a major defeat in a competition, she hid in her cage, curled up in a corner, and mustered every ounce of courage in her small and fragile body to fight off tears.  
"You're better than this, you're better than this..." She murmured to herself frantically, "Think of the placid water of the Aegean Sea, the sparkling glaciers of Iceland, the extraordinary verdure of the Amazon forest, and the startling blue of Tibetan sky...Think of the beauty you are yet to see with your own heart and soul..."  
She fed herself with dreams and imagination, the only potent drug she could found those days. She held on to them, like a drowning man to a straw.  
Just then voices slipped in to the chaos of her mind--her owner was talking to someone.  
"...She died?"  
"Oh yes, fell off a window and broke her neck."  
"God, that's horrible!"  
"Well, I wouldn't be surprised. You knew her. That little restless insatiable elf. She tried to fly."  
"Fly? I thought she would be smarter than that. She could still be alive and well if she wasn't such a fool..."  
The world stilled. She could feel small icicles piercing through her body, freezing her until she was no more than an ice sculpture, about to explode into a thousand pieces.  
A single tear trickled down her cheek.


	5. Chapter 5

She was there the next day, standing on the windowsill, when he took his leave.  
"I understand that this is a bit sudden, but I would like to ask you to come with me." He said abruptly. It was not a feverish request between lovers, nor a cold suggestion made out of courtesy. It was a wise old shepherd trying to guide his lost lamb home.  
She startled, barely managing to keep her voice even, "I um, I'm sorry I can't."  
"Why not? I could see it in your eyes. You long to be free, to feel the pulse of the world yourself."  
At the mention of an idea so similar to her own perished one, she could feel in her eyes, tears threatening to gush out.  
"But I cannot fly." She squeezed her eyes shut and croaked out.  
"I can teach you."  
Her eyes flew open, staring at him in disbelief. Why on earth did he insist, when she was already a hopeless case? She could taste her own bitterness already.  
"Then you leave me no option but to disappoint you. I cannot take the risk. Forgive me for being a coward." She winced at the word "disappoint", which she had hated since she first understood what it meant.   
She closed her eyes again, knowing perfectly that if she looked into his eyes now, she will not see the dark green of disdain or derision, but the pale blue of pity. The former she could glare with dignity or simply turn a blind eye to, while the latter would leave her utterly defenseless.  
And in darkness she heard his last words.  
"If your mind is made up, then I guess the only thing left for me to say is farewell, and good luck."  
She could hear the sound of wings flapping in the wind, growing fainter and fainter.   
When she opened her eyes at last, she saw the graceful silhouette of the adventurer, flying towards the blazing sun, and returing to the sky where he belonged.  
She realized that day, how she must go on living--with her body and heart and even fate caged in something made when she was born.   
Because that was the only way she knew how to.  
The only souvenir she got from her unexpected encounter with him, was nights of vivid dreams about ice sheets, glens, and sunsets, but less and less frequently as she grew older.  
She did become a star though.


End file.
